The Chord Poem by Erin Mouré

Courageous lair "might prevail"
Waking up to her your "yellow coal"

Steals a its way

harm's imbrogliatic murmur
to concatenate

has been "said"
a mortal habitation or cut in air

that air leaks through

here too

***

Tricked again out of
hope's chord

The oscillatory hum in the head, or
amygdala

continual reaction in the wet mouth to
old oranges, or

mistakes in form
"I retain a clear memory of afternoon light."

A vertebra unfolds its wing, its smallest
wing, the pleasure particulate of such a wing

(harp's corde)

a our mycelium


Anonymous submission.